h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

*looks around and sees a gold chalice on the altar, into which she pours a dollop of the glenfiddich, and carries it over to Sherrie*

Here you are, dearie.

*moves back to the altar to be with the bottle, idly tossing the fake emerald into the air*

I jus' came up the stairs, not down and I ain't given yer the manual yet so why should I have a pope hat? I reckon` yer wanna git rid of that guy with the gun afore I give yer the manual.

[X sweatdrops, rapidly losing any semplance of control over the scene.]

[X] All right, you leave me no choice but to angst about all the Reploids I've had to execute over the years just because they went Maverick.


Hmm ... I can imagine Maverick Jellos ... including Sigmello, Vello ...

Thank yew, ma'am...

*Sherry raises the chalice to her lips, then tips her head back and swallows the entirety of the drink in one long swallow. She then goes back to resting her head on Butch's shoulder*

Ah, mush better.

Oh, and Sea? Check the forum where we're doing something stupid.

*Herb bursts through the green door, at the head of the posse. Suddenly realizes that he has no weapon. Quickly steps aside to let the others through.*

*close behind, in one swift movement stepping over threshold, stepping aside and kneeling, bow and arrow ready, grim look on her face*

*Zeb, who has been quietly creeping towards Woody and X, takes advantage of the comotion by the green door to make his move. He leaps towards X.*

Ah'll save yeh, Boss!

*He caromes into X and knocks the X-Buster aside.*

*sneaks in unnoticed and hides in the shadows*

*Woody breaks free from X and runs to the ladder on the Vegimatic. He climbs up to the platform, next to the open maw of the machine. He waves his fist in defiance.*

YOU'VE GONE TOO FAR THIS TIME, POSSE! I HAVE HALF AN ARMY OF CLONES IN AND AROUND HERE! YOU'RE FINISHED!

*Woody puts some fingers in his mouth and issues a sharp whistle. Rustling is heard approaching from outside.*

*In shock.*

It's that durned posse! Come on, Ma'am, let's get out of here. That thar posse is the luckiest posse I ever seen. I ain't gonna tangle with them again fer nothin'.

*Pulls Sherry to her feet, then puts her over his shoulder and runs out the back door with her, carefully avoiding the pillar.*

*Enters the choir loft with a troop of warriors. Opens fire with their spud guns, down onto the posse.*

pok pok pok pok pok pok

*Comes through the green door and has to dive sideways to avoid a lethal King Edward. Brings his snowzar up and fires at the choir loft balcony. Is gratified to see one celery clone frozen solid.*

*Hobbles up the stairs. A new potato thuds into the doorway by his ear. He looks a touch surprised and then attempts to dive behind a pew. Due to his gammy leg he more sort of falls and then scrabbles his way into cover. *

*calmly shoots a couple of arrows towards the loft, the kneeling position making her a smaller target than usual*

*throws herself aside, seeking cover*

*ignites the mini blowtorch*

Baked potato anyone?

*several aimed in her general direction get backed to a T, with an appetising aroma filling the room*

*A Warrior clone suddenly stands up straight from behind the parapet of the balcony. He is clutching a flaming arrow in his chest. He twists slightly and topples over the balcony and lands with a thud between the pews down below.*

*runs up the stairs and into the church, brandishing Zero's gun*

YOU! *at Woody* You had the NERVE to kidnap ME from my own webspace and wrap me in a flearidden rug that nearly killed me! I have a thing or two to tell you about fleas!!

*a volley of maris pipers comes her way and she instinctively raises the gun and fires with a quick sweeping motion. The oncoming spuds dissolve into a rain of lightly salted crisps*

[voice from balcony] I say, those are much better mashed!

*as a clutch of Jersey Royals come her way, caer extinguishes the mini blowtorch, grabs the frying pan and demonstrates her demon backhand*

Take that...and that...that too!

Whoa! Hey! Those are our own spuds coming back! Stop firing the Jersey Royals. Let them have the Yukon Golds!

POK POK POK POK POK POK